


Goner

by hiddeninyourblood



Series: Stolen Dance [2]
Category: Criminal Minds, boy meets world (kind of), not really - Fandom
Genre: F/M, LLF, LLF Comment Project, LLF Project, Long Live Feedback Comment Project, Long Live Feedback Project, listen I love shawn hunter with my entire hEART, long live feedback
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:28:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23337655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiddeninyourblood/pseuds/hiddeninyourblood
Summary: "Don't let me be gone..."The one where you and Spencer are married, you're foster parents, and you decide your most recent kid can't get away.TellonymKo-Fi
Relationships: Spencer Reid x Reader, Spencer Reid/Original Female Character(s), Spencer Reid/Reader, Spencer Reid/You, Spencer x Reader
Series: Stolen Dance [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1670527
Comments: 35
Kudos: 128





	1. Act One — Souvenir

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back to the Stolen Dance Universe!!! Anyone else miss these two crazy kids?!
> 
> The idea for this fic was given to me by [lemonypink](https://lemonypink.tumblr.com) over on tumblr! :) Thanks for the amazing idea, bb xx
> 
>  **If you haven't seen Boy Meets World, don't panic! You can still read this story with ease.** The character Shawn Hunter from BMW simply inspired me to write this. He can easily be read as an OC, but if you _have_ seen BMW, think of it as an Easter egg ;).
> 
>  _If you didn't read Stolen Dance, you don't **have** to, but I recommend **you do**. It adds context, and I've heard it's a decent fic _;)
> 
> Okay, enough rambling! Enjoy xoxo
> 
> Title Song: [x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RPGcCvUf-mQ)

“So, how are the personal essays going?” 

Almost everyone in the circle groaned. You couldn’t help but smile. 

While group therapy was probably the most hated part of the recovery process, but in your opinion, it was the most important. Then again, you were biased, being a counselor and all. 

“I thought we were in rehab, not school,” Jeffrey pointed out. 

“It’s not an assignment, it’s a coping mechanism,” you countered. “It’s a way for you all to air out your emotions without judgement.”

“If it’s without judgement, why do we have to read it to the group?”

“Because I hate all of you.”

Muttered terms of agreement filled your ears.

‘How old were you when you used or drank for the first time? Share the story and how you felt’. 

It was one of the first questions you gave your new patients, and it was by far the hardest for them to answer. More often than not, you were given a half-assed answer; they only answered the first half of the question, or you could tell they were lying about the story. Some even seemed to flaunt their substance abuse, bragging about their tolerance levels or how cool it made them at parties. After 5 years of patients reading their responses in group, you could start to tell who would be the tougher ones to crack. 

The new girl, Caroline, raised her hand. The poor thing is all skin and bones; her drug of choice is diet pills. 

“Yes, hon?”

“What is the required word count, Mrs. Reid?” 

“She just said it’s not an assignment,” Sabrina retorted. 

She was sitting beside you, so you smacked her arm with the back of your hand. 

“Ow!” Sabrina exclaimed, then pouted. 

“There’s no required word count,” you confirmed. “However many words it takes to answer the question is the required number. And please, call me Y/N.” 

“When do we have to be done with this?” Jeffrey asked, apathetically reading his paper.

“You know the drill: I assigned it yesterday, it should be finished by our evening session Monday,” you said. 

“I thought you said this wasn’t an assignment,” Paul pointed out. Normally, he was timid, hiding behind his thick glasses and sweater vests. Occasionally, his sassy side came out, often in the setting of Group. It was actually refreshing; you liked to see your kids get comfortable enough to show their true colors. 

“It’s rehabilitation on a deadline,” you compromised. “We only have 6 more weeks together, and believe me, I intend to make the most of it. You’ll remember me by the end of it.”

“Whether we want to or not,” Jeffrey remarked.

You smirked. “You’re starting to get the hang of this.”

  
_____________________

By 5:30, you were walking out to your car. After earning your Masters degree in Psychology, you were hired as a full-time counselor at New Beginnings Rehabilitation Clinic, a rehab facility designed specifically for teenage addicts. You mostly worked 9-5, Monday-Friday, with the occasional weekend or 12-hour shift. While a part of you missed the sporadic nature of being a paramedic/profiler, you knew this was for the best. 

“Leaving so soon?” Miranda asked as she clicked her car lock.

You looked up with a smile. Miranda was a tough cookie, a nurse who worked the night shift at New Beginnings longer than you’d been alive. She had an edge sharper than a knife, but as long as you stayed on her good side, she was an angel. 

“I’ve got a doting husband waiting for me,” you said with a smile. “I’m outta here.” 

“What about that cute daughter of yours?”

“Sleepover. Her first, actually,” you smiled.

Miranda laughed with delight. “They grow up so fast. Give ‘em both a kiss for me, will ya?” 

You chuckled as you unlocked your car. “Have a good shift, Mandy.”

“Good night,” she said with a wave. 

You took a seat behind the wheel, shoving the key in the ignition and starting the car. Just as you clicked your seatbelt, your phone began to ring. However, it wasn’t Spencer, like you thought it would be: it was Faith, a former classmate of yours. 

“Hey Faith,” you said after picking up. “What’s up?”

“...I need to ask you for a favor.”

“If you want me to keep looking for another group home or temporary foster parents, I totally understand,” Faith said as the two of you walked into the police station together. “It’s just… I know you and Spencer have fostered before, and you mentioned Emery being out of the house, and… I can’t find anyone who will take him.”

Faith rattled off words a mile a minute as the two of you entered the police station. You always had trouble keeping up with her, but it seemed like ever since she graduated and became a social worker, the poor woman hadn’t stopped working. 

“Why did he get pulled from the group home he was in?” You asked.

“...He got into a fight,” she admitted after taking a breath.

You pursed your lips and nodded. 

Teens got into fights, no matter if they were in the system, a recovery program, or a regular high school. A single act of violence didn’t make or break a person. But all the kids you brought into your house had no history of violence, no matter how small. As much as you wanted to help every single foster kid in the system, you had a daughter of your own to worry about. You simply couldn’t take the chance. 

“It’s the first fight he’s ever been in,” Faith continued. “All of his records are shining, from foster parents and group homes alike.”

“Then why does he keep getting passed around?” you asked. 

Faith sighed. “He’s a good kid, but he keeps slipping up. He’s gotten kicked out of group homes for non-violent offenses, and foster parents are worried he’ll be a bad influence on their other kids.” 

Faith stopped at a door in front of a conference room. “If you don’t want to, I get it. You can tell me to fuck off and I’ll leave you alone.” 

You looked through the window of the room. A young boy, no older than 17, was slouched in a chair. He tapped his foot anxiously, eyes darting around the room. His head was bowed, but you could still see a black eye blossoming. A police officer paced in front of the boy. Neither of them wanted to be there, it seemed. 

“What did you say his name is?” You asked, not taking your eyes off of him.

“Shawn Hunter,” she replied. 

You knocked on the door politely before entering. Both Shawn and the officer looked up. 

“May I speak to Mr. Hunter?” You asked.

The officer crossed his arms. 

“...Alone?” you added.

He scoffed. “No offense, ma’am, but I don’t know you.”

You reached into your pocket, returning with your work badge. “I’m Dr. Y/N Reid, child psychologist, former FBI Agent and US Army Soldier.”

He looked at your credentials in disbelief. 

“Now you know her,” Shawn remarked.

The officer shot him a glare. Reluctantly, he returned your badge and brushed past Faith as he walked out of the room.

“You brought me a shrink, Faith?” Shawn interrogated. “That’s the last thing I need right now.”

“Just… shut up and hear her out, okay?” Faith instructed.

You smirked as you grabbed a chair from a nearby table. Judging by the way they spoke, you guessed Faith had been assigned to Shawn for a while. It was a good sign he was at least somewhat comfortable around his social worker. 

You placed the chair across from Shawn and took a seat. He looked everywhere but your face.

“What happened, Shawn?” You asked.

“Faith already told you everything you need to know,” he grumbled. 

“I want to hear it from you.” 

Shawn finally met your gaze. 

The more you worked with teens, the more you could read them. Not in a profiling, ‘tics and tells’ kind of way, but in a human way. You could see that, if you said the right things, the tough exterior many of them wove for years started to unravel. Their face would stay straight, but their eyes said something else entirely. 

You could see it starting to happen to Shawn.

“This asshole Dylan Binder was doing something stupid, so I clocked him,” Shawn said plainly. “He’s a prick, but he’s not stupid, so he fought back. I’m the one who started it, so I’m the one who got in trouble. Happy?” 

“What was he doing?” 

“...What?” 

“What did Dylan do?” you repeated. “What made you want to hit him?” 

Shawn shifted in his seat uncomfortably.

“You can say it, Shawn,” Faith piped up softly. “Nothing you say has to leave this room.” 

Shawn clenched his jaw. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me,” you argued. 

Shawn took a breath in through his nose. 

“Look, I’m not a child psychologist,” you said. “I mean, I am, but I’m not your psychologist. That’s not why I’m here.” 

He frowned. “Then why are you here?”

“I’m a foster parent,” you answered. “My husband and I have fostered 4 different kids over the last 6 years.”

“How many of them still live with you?” Shawn asked.

“None of them,” you replied. “They were all close to your age when we first got them. They’re grown up — two of them are married, one of them is pregnant. The only kid still in the house is Emery, our biological daughter.” 

“How old is she?”

“6, almost 7.” you paused with a smile. “I know what you’re doing. And, to your benefit, it was working.” 

“What happened doesn’t matter,” Shawn repeated. 

“Then why can’t you tell me?” you asked softly. 

Shawn stared straight ahead, but you stared at him. You let the awkward silence drag on. You could see Faith swaying awkwardly, growing more uncomfortable with each passing second. You refused to be the one to end it. 

“I’ll tell you,” Shawn eventually succumbed. “But she -” he pointed to Faith, “- has to leave.”

“Come on, Shawn: you can tell me anything,” Faith resisted. “You know that.” 

“I do,” he assured. “But you have legal obligations. Y/N here doesn’t.”

“If something happened that I need to report -”

“Faith, can I talk to you for a minute?” you interrupted, standing up. 

With a sigh of resignation, Fatih let you pull her to the corner of the room.

“He’s smart,” she said, shaking her head. “You haven’t signed anything, so you’re not legally responsible for him yet. He knows that, as long as I’m in here, whatever he says won’t leave these 4 walls.”

“Just… trust me, okay?” you asked, setting your hands on your friend’s shoulders. 

“Y/N, I appreciate what you’re doing, but he’s not the only kid I have to worry about,” she argued. “If something other than a regular fight happened in that house, there are 11 boys who live there. I need to know.” 

“I know,” you said quietly, “and I’ll tell you if that’s the case. You know I will. But right now, I don’t have other kids to worry about, so I kind of want this one to trust me.” 

After brief consideration, she smiled softly. “You’re too good at this stuff, Y/N.”

“My mother would agree with you,” you laughed softly. 

Faith smirked, patted your shoulder, and made her way to the door. 

“I’ve got some paperwork to take care of,” she said, then looked at Shawn. “I’ll be back in a few, alright?” 

Shawn nodded once. 

You returned to your seat in front of him, crossing your arms in your lap. You waited patiently. 

“There are 6 bedrooms in the group home,” Shawn explained, “and all of them are on the second floor. There are two people assigned to each room. We can let other members into our rooms, but we can only close the door at night.”

Shawn sunk lower into his chair, tapping his foot. “We have an hour after supper as rec time. I was in my room, reading a book. I heard the door open, so I looked up, thinking it would be my roommate. It was Dylan. He closed the door behind him.” 

You continued listening.

Shawn closed his eyes. “He started walking towards me. He was undoing his belt. He said if I even opened my mouth, he’d kill me. When he got close enough, I kicked him in the face, so he lunged at me. We both got a few punches in, but eventually, he wrapped his hand around my throat. I guess someone heard us, because next thing I knew, he was pulled off of me and I was put in the back of a cop car.” 

With your index finger in the shape of a hook, you gently tilted Shawn’s chin up. He winced slightly, and sure enough, a bruise vaguely shaped like a handprint was developing. 

You sighed sadly. “And Dylan is still in the home?”

“Yeah,” he answered faintly. 

You paused. “How hard did you kick him?” 

He smirked. “I think I broke his nose.” 

You offered him a fist bump.

  
_____________________

“Babe, you home?!” You called out after stepping into the house. Spencer’s car was in the driveway, but that didn’t stop you from asking every night he got home before you. You never managed to fully get rid of the idea that somehow, some day, you’d lose him. 

“In here!” he called back. 

You smiled in relief. You took in a breath, finally noticing the amazing smell emitting from the kitchen. Over the years, the two of you managed to become somewhat decent cooks. 

Shawn stepped into the house as you hung up your jacket. He held onto a black trash bag that you knew was only half-full, if that. It always broke your heart to see a kid carrying one. 

“I have a surprise for you!” you said.

“Better than a nice dinner with your husband?” he retorted gleefully.

You looked at Shawn, who shrugged. You did the same. 

“Maybe?” you replied. 

Spencer entered from the kitchen, which overlooked the living room. You and Shawn were just out of sight, hidden behind the wall that created the short front hallway. The minute he turned the corner, you smiled wide. 

“Surprise!” you said. 

Spencer frowned in confusion. “What?” 

You stepped aside so he could fully see Shawn. You extended your arms with your palms flat, like you were displaying a prize.

“You got me a kid?” Spencer asked.

“Yes?” you said, though it came out as more of a question.

“I already have 5 of those,” he said. 

Shawn waved awkwardly. “Hi,” he said. “I’m sorry for intruding. I thought she told you.” 

“Lesson 1 ‘Y/N Reid-ology’? Never assume,” Spencer joked. “I’m Spencer. It’s nice to meet you…?”

“Shawn,” he informed. “Shawn Hunter.” 

“It’s nice to meet you, Shawn Hunter.”

“You too, sir.” 

You clapped your hands together. “Well! Shawn, how about we get you settled?”

“He’s not wrong — you could have told me.”

You found a placemat and plate in the cupboard, setting up an extra spot at the dinner table. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just that Faith needed help, and she’s done so much for us when it comes to the system, so I figured I should return the favor.” 

“Maybe, but at what cost, Y/N?” Spencer asked, stirring a pot that was simmering on the stove.

You frowned, pulling a fork and spoon out of the silverware drawer. “What do you mean?” 

“How did he get the black eye?” 

“...a fight,” you admitted. “But it isn’t as bad as it looks! And he should only be with us for a few days while Faith works everything out.”

Spencer sighed. “You love to help people, especially kids, and that’s something I love about you,” he murmured, “but you have other things to worry about.”

“You mean like Emery?” you countered, setting down the cutlery. “Spence, do you really think I’d let anyone into this house who I genuinely believed would be a threat to my daughter?” 

Spencer looked up and stared at you. Then, he smiled softly and reached an arm out. 

You smiled as well, accepting his hand into yours. He pulled you against his chest, his arm bracing your shoulders. 

“I know you wouldn’t,” he assured, kissing your temple. 

“Good,” you hummed. 

“I do have a question for you, though,” Spencer continued.

“What’s that?”

“Did you have to bring a child under our roof the one night we were supposed to have no children?” 

You laughed.

“So you really work for the FBI?” Shawn asked. He was only picking at his meal, but he seemed somewhat interested in conversing, which you took as a good sign.

Spencer nodded after taking a sip of water. “I work for the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit, or the BAU. We create profiles of criminals through psychological analysis.”

“Bitchin’.”

Spencer chuckled. “You know, once upon a time, Y/N did too.”

“What made you quit?” Shawn asked you.

“Emery,” you admitted, “and some other things, but mostly her. Spencer and I worked the same job, so if one of us got stuck working a case, it meant both of us did. We wanted to make sure Emery always had at least one of us at home.” 

“Do you miss it?”

“Sometimes,” you replied. “I miss the team, mostly. I loved the job, but I love this one too. There was a lot of action in the BAU, which I miss sometimes, but I’ve had more than enough combat to last me a lifetime.”

“You know, before she joined the BAU, Y/N was a medic in the Army,” Spencer stated proudly. 

“Yeah, I think that came up,” Shawn said.

Spencer looked at you, amused. “Did you tell him everything?”

“Not everything!” you defended. “...just most things.”

“You want to keep this one?” Spencer asked, stepping out of the shower.

You laughed, shedding your shirt. “I want to keep all of them.” 

“We haven’t had a foster kid in years,” he noted. “It breaks your heart when they leave.” 

“It does,” you agreed, changing into your pajama top, “but it breaks my heart to see them grow up. In some ways, it even breaks my heart to see them be happy without me. But that’s the entire point, isn’t it? We help them for as long as we can, and then we let them go.” 

“You really think you can do that?” Spencer asked as he dried his hair. “You think you can let him go?” 

“We should go shopping tomorrow,” you said, pretending to not hear him. “We have to buy Emery’s birthday gift, and I was thinking we could buy Shawn a few outfits.” 

Now wearing boxers, Spencer came back into the bedroom. As he approached the bed, he shot you a look.

“What? They would be for when he leaves. He should go to his next home with some clothes that’ll last, don’t you think?”

You pulled back the sheets and laid down.

Spencer did the same, only he continued to stare at you.

You sighed. “What?”

“You’re falling in love with him.” 

“I am not!” you defended with a laugh. 

“You want to take him shopping!” Spencer laughed. “That’s like, your initiation ritual.” 

“He’s a good kid,” you hummed, curling up against your husband.

Even after all these years, it felt good to say that word — ‘husband’. It fit perfectly in your mouth; it melted your throat and slipped off your tongue. 

Spencer brushed back your hair and kissed your forehead. 

“Yeah, he is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **  
>  This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject),    
>  which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:  
>    
>  **
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Constructive criticism
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> **  
>  **This Author replies to comments.** _If you don't want a reply, for whatever reason, sign your comment as *whisper*._ I won't respond or interact with the comment, but I **_will read and appreciate it!_**   
>    
>    
>  **
> 
> ≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺
> 
> I was talking forever in the opening notes, so I'll include this down here: the whole group therapy scene is actually based on the book 'Clean' by Amy Reed. It's one of my favorite novels that I recommend to anyone and everyone. I changed character names, but each teen was based off of someone in the book. 
> 
> Until next time... xx


	2. Aren't We Just Terrified?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I seriously haven't updated this since March?! This year is simultaneously a decade and a day. 
> 
> If anyone is still even interested in this fic, thanks for sticking around! I hope this was worth the wait <3
> 
> Title Song: [x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sbXrzfkSfyI)

“What kind of music do you listen to, Shawn?”

Spencer elected to drive, so you sat in the passenger seat while Shawn stared out the window in the backseat. 

“Classic Rock, I guess,” he answered with a shrug. “I don’t get the chance to listen to much music. I don’t stay in one place long enough to have a job, so I can’t buy a phone.”

The foster system truly is a different world.

You connected your phone to the car stereo via Bluetooth. After scrolling through your music, you found what you were looking for: Arctic Monkeys.

“I think you’ll like these guys,” you said, playing one of your favorites, ‘No Buses’. 

You weren’t sure why, but something about that song in particular made you feel nostalgic. It reminded you of Colorado, your old home. Even better, it reminded you of the road trip you took with Spencer over 10 years ago. Oh, how time flies. 

You let the song play out, basking in the memories and happiness it evoked. You eventually reached over, taking Spencer’s right hand off the wheel and lacing your fingers with it. He smiled, briefly casting you a glance. Between the warmth of his hand, the hum of the music, and the light pattering of rain on the windows, you briefly drifted into another world. 

The song faded out, but you were still smiling. 

“What do you think?” You asked. You loved shoving your taste in music down other people’s throats whenever you got the chance. 

Shawn nodded with a small, almost invisible smile. “I like it.” 

You were about to respond, but your phone rang. You answered with a frown.

“Hello… is everything okay?... Really? Why?... Of course. We’ll be there in a few minutes… Thanks. Bye.”

Spencer looked over with a cocked eyebrow. “We’re making a pit stop?”

You nodded. “Guess where.” 

≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺

“I’m so sorry, Amanda,” you apologized as you entered.

You’d been to her house on a few occasions before; Emery liked to have playdates with Amanda’s daughter, Kate. You still weren’t great at making small talk with the other parents. 

“Oh, it’s totally fine!” she assured. “I’m sorry if I ruined any plans by telling her you and Spencer were going shopping this morning.”

“You had no way of knowing she’d do this,” you chuckled. “Once that girl gets an idea, she’s hellbent.” 

“‘Hell’ is a naughty word,” Emery stated as she walked down the hall. 

“I thought we agreed I’d pick you up before dinner,” you retorted.

“It’s before dinner,” she shrugged. 

Amanda stifled a laugh as you smirked. Sometimes, you really wish she didn’t inherit your snark. 

“Did you say goodbye to Kate?” you asked. 

“Do I look like I’d dine and dash?” 

She learned the term a few weeks ago but had yet to use it in the right context.

“Did you thank Amanda for having you over?” You said. 

Emery turned to the other adult. One strap holding the hot-pink strap of her backpack, she stuck the other out to Amanda. 

“Thank you for letting me spend the night,” Emery thanked.

Amanda shook her hand with a smile. “It was my pleasure.”

You opened the door, letting Emery step out.

“Thank you,” you said to Amanda, who wished you both a fun morning. 

You closed the door behind you. 

“Emmy, wait,” you said, calling after your daughter. 

She stopped walking, turning around to face you. Once you reached her, you knelt down so you could be at your eye level. You set your hands on her arms. 

“The reason your dad and I wanted to go shopping is that… we’re fostering someone.” 

She had a blank look on her face.

“It was last minute, but I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about it,” you apologized. “If you want, you and I can go home and spend the day together, or you can go home with dad..?”

Emery broke into a smile. “I have a brother?!”

She turned to bolt to the car, but you managed to catch her in time. 

“Hey, that’s not what I said,” you chuckled, pulling her back to face you. “We don’t know how long he’s going to be with us.” 

“Mom, that’s what you say about all of them,” She pointed out.

“I know,” you agreed, “but I’m serious, Em. Don’t get your hopes up, okay?”

Emery went right back to smiling. “What’s his name?” 

“Shawn,” you answered. “His name is Shawn Hunter.” 

Emery bolted to the car again, and this time, you let her. By the time you got around to the passenger’s side, Emery was buckled in and offering her hand to Shawn, who looked confused. He shook her hand anyway. 

“Hello,” she said, chin high. “It’s nice to meet you, Shawn Hunter. My name is Emmerson Diana Reid, but most people call me Emery.” 

“Most people call me Shawn,” he retorted. 

“Sorry, Shawn — Emery recently learned what a handshake is,” you said. 

“It’s what you do when you meet someone new, isn’t it?” She asked. 

Spener laughed as he pulled away from the curb. “Yes, my love, it is.” 

≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺

Spencer ended up splitting off with Emery, most likely to smell the candles in Bath & Body Works. They were super overpriced, so you never bought her one, but she liked scents. Spencer often bought her a travel lotion in her favorite scent so they didn’t leave completely emptyhanded. 

“I hope Emery didn’t scare you off,” you said, looking through a rack of pants. “She can be a lot sometimes.” 

Shawn hovered beside you awkwardly, clearly out of his element. You were trying to go as quickly as you could, but since neither of you knew his sizes, most of what you picked out was guesswork. 

“I’ve been bounced around the foster system since I was 11,” Shawn replied. “7-year-old girls with Hello Kitty backpacks don’t scare me.” 

“Okay, fair enough,” you chuckled. “Hey, why don’t you pick something out? It feels like I’m doing most of the shopping.” 

“I’m okay with anything that fits,” Shawn said. 

You took a step back, looking him up and down. “You’re what, an 8 dress size?”

He stared at you blankly.

“It’s a joke,” you laughed. “But seriously, Shawn, I don’t know you that well, and this stuff should last you a while. I want to make sure you don’t hate it.” 

“Look, I’m not thrilled you’re buying me anything, to begin with,” Shawn said. “I don’t want to be in any more debt than I have to be. So, seriously, I’m fine with whatever you choose.” 

You looked at him with a frown. “Shawn… You’re not in debt, okay? I want to do this. This isn’t a burden. You’re not a burden.”

“Mommy, mommy!” Emery squealed behind you. 

You turned around to see her bolting towards you, Spencer only a few steps behind. 

“What’d you get, babygirl?” you asked with a smile. 

Once she caught up to you, she stuck her hand out, proudly showing off her small bottle of lotion. “Japanese Cherry Blossom!” 

“Oh, just like last time?” you said, looking to your husband. “And the time before that?” 

Spencer rubbed his neck. “I can never remember.” 

You deadpanned. “You have an eidetic memory.”

“You try saying no to that face!” He defended. 

You laughed, pulling Spencer towards you by his scarf. You pecked him on the lips. 

Shawn stood there awkwardly.

“Shawn, why don’t you go try these on?” you said, offering him the items you picked out. “We’ll be over in a second.”

He grabbed them from you, turning around to find the nearest dressing room. 

“How’s it going?” Spencer asked, running his hand up and down your back.

You breathed in, then shrugged. “As well as could be expected. He hates the attention, makes him feel like a burden.”

“What’s a ‘burden’?” Emery asked, tugging at the hem of your shirt. 

“A burden is… something that makes your life harder,” you summarized in a way that she would understand. 

“Why does Shawn think he’s a burden?” Emery continued. “People aren’t burdens!”

You smiled, crouching down so you’d be at her eye-level. You ran a hand through her hair. 

“No, baby,” you agreed, “they’re not.” 

You made Shawn come out of the dressing room for each outfit to make sure they fit right. He preferred the baggier clothing to the tighter ones, which you kept in the back of your mind. He didn’t want to make a scene, so Spencer kept Emery entertained for the few seconds Shawn came out from behind the curtains. 

On the last outfit, however, he turned everyone’s heads. 

It was simple for the most part — a white graphic tee, some ripped up jeans, and a new pair of converse. The final touch, however, is something you didn’t pick out; he must have picked it up on his way to the dressing room.

“I don’t need it,” Shawn said, pulling on the sleeves, “just thought it would look cool.”

He found a jacket, a leather jacket. Probably faux — it looked a little too thin to be real. But regardless, it was black, shiny, and sleek. The silver zippers on the sleeves and breast pockets were a nice contrast. 

You tugged on the sides of the jacket, noticing how well it fit. Plus, it had a lining, meaning it would be somewhat practical as well as stylish. 

“Do you want it?” You asked. 

Shawn stopped playing with the sleeves to look up at you. He quickly recomposed himself, deciding to shrug nonchalantly. “It’s cool.”

You adjusted the collar, finding the tag. It was on sale, reduced to $60. 

“It’s yours.” 

“So, Shawn,” you said after finishing a bite of pizza from the food court. “I know you don’t like surprises, but I have one for you.”

He set his slice down and stared at you.

“Spencer and I got to talking, and... “ you reached into one of your various shopping bags, “...we got you this.” 

It was a smartphone. Not an expensive one — it was the kind you buy in a box and requires ‘minutes’ to operate — but it was a phone nonetheless.

“Wowww!” Emery said as he accepted the box, leaning over his arm to look at it. Of course, she had to sit next to Shawn for lunch. “When do I get one of those?!”

“What could you possibly need a phone for?” you deadpanned.

“...Games,” she mumbled. 

Shawn examined the box carefully, flipping it over and over and over in his hands.

“What do you think, kid?” Spencer asked.

His eyes bounced between the two of you.

“Why?”

“If you ever need to get ahold of me, or Spencer, or Faith,” you said, taking a sip of your drink. “Besides, now you have something to listen to music with.”  
  


≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺

Basically out of other options, you and Spencer decided to spend the night in with the kids. You planned to take it easy, maybe catch up on some of the assignments you gave your group, but Emery had other ideas.

“Pleaseeeeeeee,” Emery whined, shaking your arm.

“Baby, we’ve already seen Frozen II,” you argued. “You have every song memorized. You watch it in the morning with your breakfast.” 

“But Shawn hasn’t seen it!” 

You laughed. “I don’t think he’d like it. Ask your dad, maybe he’ll watch it with you.” 

“Can I ask Shawn?”

You sighed, looking at your daughter with a soft smile. You brushed back some of her hair. “You can ask, but I think he’s busy setting up his phone.”

By the time you gave her permission, Emery was darting off the couch and to the kitchen, where Shawn and Spencer were. 

“Shawn!” Emery asked excitedly, “do you want to watch Frozen II?!”

You turned around on the couch, looking into the kitchen. She was holding his hand with both of hers, playing with his fingers as she stared up at him. Even sitting at the table, Shawn was a decent foot taller than her. 

“I haven’t seen the first one.”

“...Is that a yes?”

Thirty minutes later, Emery was curled up against Shawn on the couch, As the movie went on, she explained the characters and their backstory, which Shawn missed by not seeing the first one. Obviously, it was easy to keep up, it being a children’s movie and all. Still, Shawn nodded and oohed and ahhed as Emery pointed and excitedly explained. 

Your phone vibrated in your pocket. 

After kissing Spencer’s cheek, you took his arm off of your shoulders and walked into the kitchen to find some silence. You read the Caller ID — it was Faith.

“Hey, Faith,” you said. “What’s up?”

“Hi Y/N. I’m sorry for calling this late, but… I found a group home in Baltimore willing to take Shawn.”

“...Right now?” 

“They have a room ready.”

“Baltimore… that’s an hour away. You’d be handing him off to another social worker, right?”

“His case would be transferred to someone local, yes.” 

“He’s 17. How much more is he going to be passed around before he can finally live?”

“It’s up to you, hon. But if I don’t get him up there tonight, another boy will get the room.”

You looked back to the living room, where Emery was already falling asleep on Shawn’s chest. 

“We can keep him a while longer.”

By the time the closing credits rolled, both Emery and Shawn were asleep. She was fully curled up against him, thumb in her mouth as she dozed off. Meanwhile, Shawn wrapped an arm around her back, his forehead pressed to the top of her head.

“You want to put Emery to bed?” you whispered to your husband. “I’ll clean up down here.”

“Whatever you say, boss,” Spencer hummed, pulling you into a kiss. 

After Spencer carefully pulled Emery from Shawn’s grasp, you began picking up the empty popcorn bowls and cups. Before you were about to go to the kitchen, you looked back at Shawn.

He was still sleeping, this time, his face towards the ceiling as his neck rested on the back of the couch. He was a quiet kid, but for the first time since you’d met him, he looked at peace. 

Slowly, as to not wake him up, you picked up Shawn’s legs and rotated his body so he was lying horizontally on the couch. You grabbed a blanket off of the nearby recliner and covered him with it. Finally, after brushing back the hair in his face, you kissed his forehead. 

After putting your daughter in her bed, Spencer joined you in the kitchen. 

“Go to bed, Spence,” you argued with a laugh, “I can manage.”

He set his hands on your waist, leaning into you. He chuckled against your neck before kissing it. “Who said I’m here to do dishes?” 

“You better not distract me,” you warned, but you were already leaning against him and swaying with him. “Last time you stopped me from doing the dishes, Emery happened.”

“Your old apartment,” Spencer reminisced. “I asked you to marry me for the hundredth time. God, you were so stubborn. Still are.”

“Hey, I married you, didn’t I?” you asked. 

He laughed. “Yes, dear.”

You were about to make a remark when you heard shouting come from the living room. You and Spencer shared a look before rushing in. 

Sure enough, Shawn wasn’t yelling because of an intruder. He was thrashing around on the couch, kicking off his blanket. 

“Leave me alone, leave me alone!” Shawn shouted, eyebrows furrowed. Sweat dampened his forehead. “Don’t touch me!”

“Shawn,” Spencer said softly, gently shaking his shoulder. “Shawn, wake up.”

“Don’t touch me!” Shawn screamed. Now reacting to physical touch, Shawn began to thrash even more. “Don’t touch me!” 

Spencer grabbed both of his shoulders, this time properly shaking him awake. “Shawn!”

Shawn woke up startled, darting around to see that it was just you and Spencer. 

“Are you okay?” Spencer asked after giving Shawn a moment to compose himself.

Shawn swallowed as he sat up, wiping away some of the sweat on his face. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Okay,” Spencer said, then looked at you. “I’m gonna check on Emery, make sure she’s okay.”

You nodded. “Good idea.”

As Spencer walked upstairs, you made your way over to the couch. You sat close to Shawn, but not so close that you invaded his personal space.

“I get them too sometimes,” you said, staring at the blank TV screen. “The same thing happened to me, and when I dream about it, it takes me right back. It sucks.”

“You don’t have to lie to spare my feelings,” Shawn said. “I’m not a little kid who’s afraid of the dark.”

“Syria, 2015,” you said instead. “I was filling in for a combat medic. The leader of the task force — my boyfriend — stepped on an IED. When I tried to help him, we were both captured by enemy soldiers.”

“...What happened to him?”

You looked over at Shawn. “He died about 8 hours later. He stopped them, though. Saved me from even more trauma. I’m sorry someone wasn’t there to stop Dylan.”

He shrugged it off. “I stopped him.”

“You shouldn't have had to,” you said. The bruises on his neck were fading, but the bruise it left on his mind would never fully heal. “You shouldn’t have been there in the first place. No kid deserves that.”

“Look, I’m not a kid anymore, okay?” Shawn argued, standing up. He wasn’t extremely tall, tapping out at maybe 5’11, but because you were still sitting, he towered over you. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me. I don’t need anyone.” 

“Maybe you don’t need it,” you agreed, standing up. “But maybe you deserve it. Maybe you deserve a parent who would beat the shit out of any person that lays their finger on you. Maybe you deserve to have someone to spoil you every once in a while, whether it be a jacket or a new phone. Maybe you deserve to have someone take care of you.”

Shawn looked at the floor. 

You sighed softly. “Faith called me earlier. If you want, I can tell her to keep looking for another home, foster or group.”

“Maybe you should tell her that,” Shawn countered. 

“Or maybe, the 3 of us should sit down and talk about it,” you said. You walked by Shawn, setting a hand on his shoulder. “Get some sleep, kiddo.” 

Much to your surprise, Shawn grabbed your hand. Not gently, not to lace your fingers together. He gripped your wrist like it was a lifeline. 

“Shawn?” you asked quietly, tilting your head to look at his face. 

He tried to hide it, but you could see how red his eyes were. He sniffled, hiding his face. 

“Shawn…” you said sadly in realization.

You dropped your hand from his shoulder, but only to pull him into a hug. 

Immediately, his arms wrapped around you, fists balling in your shirt as he sobbed into your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he cried. “Oh god, I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” you promised, using one hand to rub his back while the other cradled his neck. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **  
>  This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject),    
>  which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:  
>    
>  **
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Constructive criticism
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> **  
>  **This Author replies to comments.** _If you don't want a reply, for whatever reason, sign your comment as *whisper*._ I won't respond or interact with the comment, but I **_will read and appreciate it!_**   
>    
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> ≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺
> 
> Anyone else remember when you could actually shop in malls? Wild.
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading! Until next time... xx


	3. To Live and Die in New England

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I'm not dead!
> 
> Sorry for the 5-month hiatus; I don't really have an excuse besides life. Regardless, I hope you like this chapter! Please let me know what you think, comments keep me driven. 
> 
> Title Song: [x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wWB85dpJiTo)

“For the last time, Emery — you’re not ditching school.”

You rinsed off her plate from breakfast, the one with Anna and Elsa on it. You knew she’d want to use it for dinner later.

“How come Shawn gets to skip school and I don’t?” Emery whined. 

You actually had to think of an answer.

From what Faith said, Shawn hadn’t been in school since 10th grade, despite being old enough to graduate this year. Between switching residence several times and living in group homes, school and grades got lost in the shuffle. 

“Shawn’s coming to work with me,” you answered. “Do you want to sit in my office all day?” 

Emery’s eyes widened as she shook her head. 

She did that once. Emery was curious what you did all day, so on a Friday she had off of school anyway, you showed her firsthand. She spent most of the day in your office, whining about how bored she was. 

“Go get your shoes and backpack on,” you said. “We’ll be leaving in 10 minutes.”

Of course, your daughter did as she was told.

Meanwhile, Shawn ate his breakfast at the table, overhearing the entire conversation. After refilling your thermos with coffee, you took a seat next to him. 

“Hopefully, we can find a better solution by the end of the week,” you said. “Are you interested in going back to school?”

“And being that weird kid who’s technically a Senior but is actually a Sophomore? Not really,” Shawn admitted.

“Fair enough. What about getting your GED? I’m sure we could find a program nearby.”

“I thought this was temporary until Faith can find me another home...”

“It is,” you nodded, “but that doesn’t mean we have to sit on our asses the whole time.”

“Language!” Emery scolded. She was now standing in the divide, not quite in the dining room, not quite in the front hall. 

“Sorry baby,” you apologized. “You ready for school?”

She did a little twirl.

≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺

‘How old were you when you used or drank for the first time? Share the story and how you felt’.

“Good morning everyone,” you greeted your group as usual. “As you can see, we have two new faces.”

Paul and Caroline, two of the more attentive group members, offered waves and muted hellos. Eve, Sabrina, and Jeffrey all sat in their seats quietly.

“Angela is here because Dr. Pawlow is on vacation, and his patients were split up amongst all the other therapists.”

Similar to most of the members, Angela stayed silent.

“Why is Shawn here?” Caroline asked politely.

“I’m Y/N’s charity case,” Shawn stated bluntly.

“He’s my foster child,” you corrected.

“So he gets to walk out of here at the end of the day?” Sabrina questioned.

“How do we know he won’t talk?” Jeffrey asked.

“Believe me: I have no one to tell,” Shawn answered for you. 

Before more questions could be asked, you clapped your hands together. “So! Who wants to go first?”  
You were answered by an onslaught of groans. Pretty normal response. Surprisingly, though, you saw a hand go up. Initially, you thought it was Caroline’s — she seemed to take the paper pretty seriously on Friday. However, Caroline sat meekly, picking at her nails in her lap. 

“Angela!” you said, “go right ahead.”

Angela unfolded the small, white piece of paper in her hand. She cleared her throat before she began reading.

“I drank for the first time when I was 13,” she read. “I was in 8th grade, and by some miracle, I was invited to a high school party. I started with a beer; I hated the way it tasted, but I loved the way it made me feel. I didn’t know anyone who could drive, so I walked home drunk that night. I woke up with a massive headache and promised myself I would never do it again. But then, Friday rolled around again. And so did the Friday after that, and the Friday after that, and the Friday after that. My Dad always worked early on Saturdays, so it was easy to sneak out and back in without him even knowing I was gone.

“Then, one day, he never came home. I started drinking a lot more then.”

“...She never said how it made her feel,” Jeffrey pointed out.

Eve smacked his shoulder.

“Angela, are you comfortable sharing how it made you feel?” You asked.

“Good, at first,” she shrugged, “not so good when I vomited on the sidewalk. The more I drank, the more… weightless I felt, ya know? Like I was outside of my own body, watching everything happen but feeling none of it.” 

“Well, Jeffrey, since you were so kind to comment, I think it’s your turn,” you volunteered the next member.

Digging into his pocket with a sigh, Jeffrey came back with a folded paper. 

“My father is an ex-Navy SEAL with a million medals. One day, he and all his buddies were watching the game in the basement. He yelled for me to come downstairs. I thought for sure he was gonna kick my ass. Instead, he gave me his beer. He said, _‘take a sip, pussy.’_ All of his friends started laughing like it was the funniest goddamn thing they’d ever heard. I thought, _‘You know what? Let’s give these assholes a show.’_

“I chugged the whole thing, right in front of them. They all clapped and cheered, and my dad let me watch the rest of the game with them.”

“How old were you?” Sabrina asked softly.

“9. That one beer really fucked me up. But all I could think about was how cool it was to be one of the guys.” 

“My dad drinks a lot too,” Shawn piped up, much to your surprise. “I’m sorry, man.”

Jeffrey shrugged like it was nothing.

“Is this really what you do every day?” Shawn asked.

It had already been about 3 hours since group therapy. You already had two individual therapy sessions — which Shawn stepped out of your office for — and you got caught up on charting and other various paperwork. 

“Yeah, this is pretty much it,” you confirmed. 

“Doesn’t it get… heavy?” 

“Sometimes,” you nodded. “That’s part of the job.”

“Sounds shitty.”

You laughed softly. Your phone vibrated on the table, announcing you received a text. You unlocked your phone. 

“Shit.”

“What?”

You sighed. “I forgot to cancel lunch plans with a few friends.” 

“Why do you have to cancel?”

“You want to have lunch with 3 grown women?” you countered.

“I can stay here.”

You frowned. “Are you sure?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Why not.”

“Alright,” you agreed. “I’ll have nurse Eliza check in on you. She can show you to the dining hall, help you get some lunch.”

You attended your annual lunch with Emily and JJ like normal, thanks to Shawn’s willingness to stay behind. Even after you quit the BAU, the three of you managed to maintain a normal friendship. Penelope tagged along sometimes, but she was often too busy with work. 

“So,” JJ says after sipping her water, “Spencer says you guys got a new kiddo in the house.”

“Yeah, what’s that like?” Emily agreed.

“It’s… weird,” you said. “I mean, he’s a great kid. He’s really sweet, especially with Emery. It’s just strange having a teenager in the house again, especially with Emery getting older. She’s like, an actual person to Shawn, you know? Not just a toddler who drools everywhere.” 

“I feel the same way about Henry,” JJ agreed. “He’s growing up way too fast. But he’s a good big brother to Michael, and that’s all I can really ask for.” 

“Spencer said you’re falling in love with this one,” Emily remarked.

“I am not!” you defended. “This is temporary, just until his social worker can find another home.”

“He said you took him shopping.”

JJ gasped with a smile. 

“You’re totally falling in love with this kid,” JJ agreed. 

“Hey, Emily, how’s the boyfriend doing?” you asked instead.

“We are not talking about me!” Emily laughed. 

“We are now,” you smirked. 

“He got promoted,” JJ answered for Emily. 

“Oh really?”

“Yep,” Emily confirmed, “new head of the Denver field office.”

Your smile fell. 

“Oh, Emily, I’m sorry.” 

“What’s there to be sorry about? We’re still dating.”

“Long distance sucks,” you replied. 

“Okay, for the last time: you and Spencer were never long distance. You hooked up, he flew back to DC, and after 3 months of not speaking, the two of you went on a romantic road trip,” JJ deadpanned.

“...Well, those three months really sucked.”

≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺

“Hey, Shawn! Come play Frozen with me!” Emery said, tugging at Shawn’s sleeve.

The four of you just finished eating dinner, and Emery wasted no time. 

“I’ll come play with you in a minute, sweetheart,” you offered. “Daddy and I have to talk to Shawn first.” 

Emery pouted briefly, but dismissed herself from the dining room. You heard light footsteps up the staircase moments later. 

“Am I in trouble or something?” Shawn joked. He said it with a laugh, but it didn’t mask the genuine concern in his eye.

“No, not in trouble,” you said with a smile. “Just a few things we need to touch base on. #1: how do you feel about filing a report on Dylan Binder?”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Shawn, he could be hurting other boys,” Spencer said.

“Anyone who ends up in a place like that knows how to take care of themselves,” Shawn countered. 

“You had a nightmare about it,” you said softly. “Maybe they can handle it, but does that mean they deserve it? ...Do you think you deserve it?” 

Shawn bowed his head, but it wasn’t enough to hide the bruise on his neck. At this point, it was turning green and yellow, but it was undeniably a handprint. Just looking at it made you sick to your stomach. 

“What’s #2?” Shawn asked as he looked up.

#2 was a meeting with a guidance counselor. New Beginnings, the rehab clinic you worked at, had one on staff, but Spencer offered to actually take Shawn to the appointment while you worked. 

“So, what’s the deal with Shawn?” Sabrina asked.

Maybe you should have taken him to the appointment after all.  
“...He’s someone me and my husband are fostering,” you answered.

“Why the black eye and bruises?” Angela asked.

“He got into a fight with another boy.”

“That’s why he got kicked out of his other home?” Sabrina continued.

“Wait, don’t you already have a daughter?” Caroline chimed in.

“People can have more than one child at a time, Caroline,” you answered bluntly. 

“But don’t you want to keep her safe?” Caroline pressed.

You raised your eyebrows.

“Are you questioning my judgement as a mother?” You countered.

Caroline looked down, embarrassed. “Of course not. I’m sorry, ma’am.” 

“Don’t shut down — that’s the most honest thing I’ve heard from you since you got here.”

“I’m not shutting down!” Caroline defended.

“I’ve heard you haven’t been eating.”

“Yeah, because you people don’t give me enough time to do my homework.”

“Does that also explain why you were up all night rearranging Sabrina’s things?” 

Caroline looked from you to Sabrina. “You told her?”

“No! I mean, yes, kinda. I told some people, I guess word gets around. You have to admit, it’s weird.”

The two girls were roommates, and neither of them seemed thrilled by the idea. You thought it was the perfect fit — Sabrina is brutally honest, Caroline isn’t honest enough. Maybe they can learn something from each other. 

“How do you feel about Sabrina calling it ‘weird’?” you asked Caroline.

“I don’t really care. Can we discuss something else now?” 

“Do you think it’s weird?”

“I just want to do my homework! What’s so wrong with that?”

“And the rearranging?” 

“I’m sorry, Sabrina.”

“Apology accepted,” Sabrina retorted. “We don’t have to talk about this.” 

“Caroline, obsessive-compulsive symptoms is a normal side effect from amphetamine withdrawal,” you said, “but what concerns me is that it’s been days since your last pill, and you’re still exhibiting symptoms. What else is going on?” 

“Jesus Christ, I just want to get my homework done!” Caroline snapped. “What is wrong with you guys?! Because I give a shit about my life, I’m neurotic? Sorry I don’t want to be like all the other losers in here!” 

“Losers?” Paul whispered with a frown.

“Perfect girl said ‘shit’,” Angela remarked.

“Sorry, Paul, you’re not a loser,” Caroline apologized.

“Look, Caroline: you’re in pain. So is everyone else. You don’t get a pass because you think you have the most to lose. You’ve created a world where you can control everything, and it’s killing you.” 

“I never said that! That’s not true!”  
“Dude, Caroline’s kind of being a bitch,” Jeffrey commented.

“Dude, shut up,” you retorted. 

Jeffrey saluted you. 

“Here’s the deal, Caroline:. You are no longer allowed in your bedroom alone. You are to spend each mealtime entirely in the cafeteria. You are not allowed to sit alone at activities, and you are to participate in every recovery meeting. You are not allowed to do schoolwork outside of the 1 hour allotment time each day. I’ve already instructed the nurses to keep your books at their station.”

“You can’t do that!”

“I just did, sweetheart. I’m the counselor, you’re not. This isn’t summer camp, or some resort. You aren’t here to make friends, you aren’t here to have a good time. You are here to heal. You all have an obligation to each other, whether you want to or not. Sabrina, you’re Caroline’s roommate. You’ll be her permanent buddy for as long as she’s here.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Do you want her to die?”

Sabrina looked like you slapped her across the face. “Jesus, Y/N, of course not.” 

“Good. As for everyone else — you are to hold Caroline accountable. If you see she isn’t eating, tell a counselor or nurse. If she’s being obsessive-compulsive, call her out. Don’t let her be alone.”

“You want us to babysit her?” Jeffrey asked.

“I want you to give a shit about someone except for yourself for once in your life. Are you okay with that, Jeffrey?” 

“Yeah. I mean, yes, of course.”

“Does anyone have a problem with that?” You asked the entire group.

You received vague answers of approval.

≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺

“How was your day?”

You sighed, finally shedding your button-down. Most of the time, you went to work in casual clothing — a t-shirt, jeans, even the occasional baseball hat when you didn’t do your hair. On the days you dressed up, you remembered why you normally don’t; it takes too much effort, making sure your shirt is tucked in or that your skirt isn’t riding up. Besides, you never were one for formality. 

“My patients hate me, but what else is new,” you replied. “You?” 

“The Dean still wants me to be a Professor full-time, but what else is new,” Spencer said with a smile.

After shedding your skirt and bra, you threw on one of his t-shirts. 

“Are you considering his offer?” 

Spencer shrugged as he got into bed with you. 

“I don’t know. In some ways, it would be great: my schedule would be more predictable, I’d have guaranteed weekends off, and the pay is better.” 

“And the one, massive, earth-shattering con?”

“I’d have to leave the BAU,” Spencer said.

You cuddled to your husband’s side, throwing his arm over your shoulders. “They’re your family. It isn’t an easy choice to make.”

“This is my family,” Spencer protested softly, running a thumb over your cheek. “You, Emery, maybe even Shawn. This is what I want, and it’s the easiest choice I’ve ever had to make.” 

“You know we were having sex tonight regardless of flattery, right?” 

Spencer laughed, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. 

“Speaking of Shawn… how did the meeting go?” 

Spencer sighed.

“That bad, huh?”

“He’s a bright kid — he could go places in life.”

“But…”

“But I think he’s afraid to,” Spencer said, absentmindedly rubbing your arm as he pulled you closer. “I think he wants to avoid any expectations, so he just pretends he doesn’t care.”

Fostering teenagers was always bittersweet. They get so beaten down by life, by family after family who doesn’t want them, by the system they keep bouncing around in. They get so lost in the world that they come to expect only terrible things from it. Sometimes, you and Spencer could help lead them down the right path. Sometimes, you couldn’t. 

“I think I’m falling in love with this one,” you whispered.

Spencer brushed back your hair to kiss your forehead.

“Me too.”

_≻ ───── “I no longer know If I wish to drown myself in love, vodka or the sea.” ~Franz Kafka ─────≺_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **  
>  This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject),    
>  which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:  
>    
>  **
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Constructive criticism
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> **  
>  **This Author replies to comments.** _If you don't want a reply, for whatever reason, sign your comment as *whisper*._ I won't respond or interact with the comment, but I **_will read and appreciate it!_**   
>    
>  **
> 
> ≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺
> 
> I mentioned this in the first chapter, but once again, I basically stole that whole therapy scene from Amy Reed's _'Clean'_. 10/10, one of my favorite books.
> 
> Until next time... xx


	4. Lucky For You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little shorter than usual, but I figured I'd upload it like this rather than waiting 2 more weeks just to add another 600 words. Something tells me y'all feel the same way. 
> 
> my second semester is starting tomorrow, so to anyone in the same boat, good luck! This school year fucking sucks and I'm proud of you for making it this far.
> 
> Title Song: [x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qGGtAjF3Gqo)

“I was that bitch in school that everyone hated, the girl who went to the hair salon every 4 weeks, the girl that woke up early to cake her face with makeup, the girl who wore high heels to class. Now I can’t look in the mirror without being grossed out.”

Sabrina cleared her throat and kept reading.

“The first drink I ever had was with the boy who lived down the street. I was 13, he was 17. Sometimes, on the weekend, we would make out. Then, one night, when both of our parents were out of the house, he invited me over. He gave me a tall glass of vodka and orange juice. I thought it tasted disgusting, but I drank the whole thing, and he smiled, and we started making out, and eventually, he took off my pants. 

“I lost my virginity to him. But I didn’t care, because the vodka made me feel good, and at some points, so did the sex. I realized how well the two things went together. When I got home, I made my own Screwdriver, and I chugged the whole thing, only there was no boy to impress. I just wanted to keep feeling and not let myself think.” 

“What do you mean you can’t look in the mirror without feeling grossed out?” Shawn asked.

It was Thursday, and you had yet to find a better solution when it came to Shawn. You felt like you could trust him to stay in the house alone, but what would he do all day? If he wasn’t going to school, you figured this was the best alternative. Besides, he seemed to be getting along with everyone well enough; group therapy was the most you’ve ever heard him talk at once. 

“I get it,” Angela answered for her. “You used to be the pretty girl, the one that all the boys looked at, the one that all the other girls wanted to be.”

“Now look at me — greasy hair, a face full of acne, no trace of makeup… and you wanna know the funniest part about it? I don’t really give a shit,” Sabrina agreed. 

“Well, I still think you’re gorgeous,” Jeffrey remarked.

He was sitting beside you, so it was easy for you to sock him in the shoulder.

“Ow! What was that for?!”

“Keep it in your pants, Jeffrey,” you countered. You then turned your attention to someone else in the circle. “Caroline! How have you been doing?”

“I’m pretty sure I’m failing Geometry,” she said.

You couldn’t help but smile. “Why don’t you read your paper for us?”

Caroline crossed one leg over the other and began reading. “I’ve never been drunk, and I’ve never been high either, really. The first time I took drugs, my mother gave them to me. She got a prescription from her doctor — that’s what’s nice about being rich: all you have to do is ask, and you get exactly what you want. She told me to take the Adderall before school and the Pizensy as much as I needed to. 

“For a long time, I felt great. I didn’t feel hungry anymore, and the Adderall helped me stay up later to do homework. I became the best student in my class within a couple of months, and I even joined the Track team. My mom always said if there was one thing worse than a fat girl, it was a skinny girl with cellulite.” 

“Holy shit,” Sabrina said after a moment of silence. “I mean, Jeffrey’s dad is a prick, but your mom is actually Satan.”

Sabrina sat across from you. You gave Angela, the person next to her, a look. She punched Sabrina’s shoulder for you. 

“Ow!” Sabrina pouted. 

“So, what about you, Shawn?” Angela asked. “What’s your deal?” 

“...I’m Y/N’s foster kid,” Shawn said like it was obvious.

“Obviously, jackass,” she said. “I mean, what’s your _deal?_ You know a lot about us, but we don’t know anything about you. You ended up in the system somehow, right?” 

“Well, like I said, my dad drinks,” Shawn said. “He started drinking more when his latest wife left, but eventually, he went off to find her. My mom took off when I was a kid, so there wasn’t anywhere else for me to go. I bounced around foster homes, then to group homes, until I eventually ended up… here. With Y/N.”

“You don’t have any other family?” Caroline asked.

Shawn shook his head. “No family that cares about me, at least.” 

“Well, welcome to the Absent Parent Club, Shawn,” Angela joked. “We are _so_ thrilled to have you.”

≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺

“Shawn, can you set the table for me, please? Spencer should be home any minute.” 

Silently, Shawn did as he was asked.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Shawn said as he set down forks for everyone.

“Shoot.”

“Is there any way I could get a GED through New Beginnings?” 

You definitely weren’t expecting that.

“...I honestly don’t know,” you answered. “But I can ask around tomorrow. What makes you want to?” 

“The people there; your group.”

“You get along with them?”

“We get each other,” he said instead. “Every school I’ve gone to, the people there don’t get it. They care about prom dates, and who’s screwing who. But the people at New Beginnings are so… real. I say my dad drinks, they nod. Jeffrey says his dad beats the crap out of him, and no one even blinks. They know what it’s like. They get it.” 

“I’m glad you found people your age you can relate to,” you said sincerely. “I can’t make any promises, but I’ll talk to my boss, and to Faith, and we’ll see if we can make it work. Okay?” 

“So in the meantime, I can keep going?” 

You smiled, putting an arm around his shoulder as you ruffled his hair. “What else am I gonna do with you?” 

Shawn shoved you away, but he did it with a smile and a laugh. 

“You know, getting a GED at New Beginnings means you’d probably have to stick around here for a while longer,” you noted. “Are you okay with that?”

“I’ll age out of the system in 7 months anyway,” Shawn said. “I’m okay with sticking around. ...As long as you guys are okay with it too?” 

“Shawnie!” Emery said, barreling through the kitchen. Her backpack bounced up and down, practically weightless; on a good day, she had exactly 1 folder in it. 

“Emmy!” Shawn shouted back with just as much enthusiasm. “How was school?! What did you learn?” 

“We’re learning subtraction!” she said, clinging to his leg. “I hate it!” 

You laughed. “Emmy, why don’t you and Shawn go get washed up for dinner?” 

Grabbing Shawn’s hand, Emery led them out of the kitchen and up the stairs. There was a bathroom on the main level, but she didn’t like that one as much; it didn’t have her favorite pink stool. 

“Hello Mrs. Reid,” Spencer said as he set his hands on your waist.

You grinned, wrapping your arms around him after kissing his cheek. “Hello, Mr. Reid.”

“Anything new?” 

“Actually, yeah,” you said as he pulled away. “Shawn wants to get his GED. Through New Beginnings.” 

He raised his eyebrows. “Wow. Is that even possible?” 

“I have no clue,” you said, “but if that’s what he wants, I’m more than happy to try.” 

Spencer smiled. “You want to keep this one, don’t you?” 

You clasped your hands together with a pout. “Can we? Pretty please?” 

“Hey, you’re the one doing all the work,” Spencer said. “Besides, Emery’s in love with him. If you want to do this, so do I.” 

“You and Shawn should really do something together,” you hummed, resting your arms on your husband’s shoulders. “Do some bonding, I think the two of you would really get along if you had the chance.” 

“‘Bonding’?” He questioned.

“Yeah! Go cut down a tree, build a house… whatever guys do.” You joked. “But seriously, I think he needs a male role model. His dad wasn’t the greatest.”

“Hey, that’s one thing we’ve got in common,” Spencer remarked.

“All three of us,” you chuckled. “I’m glad Emery can’t say the same.” 

Your husband pulled you in for a kiss.

≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺

“I was the weirdo, the Christian kid who was homeschooled and hidden from the world. The only times I left the house was to get groceries; my mom’s so agoraphobic she can’t step outside without completely breaking down. The only people she talked to were me and a pastor. 

“A new family moved in down the street. They had a son who was only a few months older than me. He caught me on the way to the store once, and we talked the whole way there and back. That night, he climbed up to my window, and we smoked pot together.”

“Thank you for sharing, Paul,” you said. “Would you like to say how it made you feel?” 

“Honestly? It felt good. Good physically, but good to be seen, ya know? It felt really good when he started bringing meth.”

“Holy shit, Jesus boy does meth,” Sabrina remarked. “I’m impressed, truly. … Please don’t slap me, Y/N.” 

“Only because you asked so nicely,” you smiled. “Angela, how are you feeling today?”

“I feel… fine.”

“Bullshit.”

“Bullshit.”

“Bullshit.”

“Dammit,” Angela cursed.

“What? Why is it bullshit?” Shawn asked.

“Jeffrey, what does FINE stand for?”

“‘Fucked up, Insecure, Neurotic, and Emotional’,” he answered.

“But what if you really are fine?” Caroline questioned.

“If you were fine, you wouldn’t be here,” Everyone else recited. 

“You know the drill, Angela: pick a word,” you said, pointing to the chart on the wall behind you. 

Within your first week of working as a counselor, you found a poster that listed 8 emotions and 10 different words to use for said emotion. 

“Okay, uh… I guess I feel… ‘ambivalent’,” Angela decided.

“What does that mean?” Jeffrey asked.

“The inability to make a choice, or feeling two opposite things at once,” Caroline said.

“Watch out everyone, we’ve got a genius in the room,” Jeffrey remarked sarcastically. 

“Explain, Angela,” you prompted.

“What do you mean? I did what you asked.”

“What are your conflicting feelings?”

“I don’t have any.”

“You just said you feel ambivalent,” you retorted.

“This is absolutely ridiculous,” Caroline continued. 

“Just do what she says and no one gets hurt,” Sabrina whispered.

“Okay, fine. I guess I’m pissed off,” Angela ceded.

“At what?” you asked.

“This place. Myself,” she said.

“And?”

“And… scared, I guess.”

“Scared of what?” 

“Scared that none of this will work. Scared that the second I get out of here, I’ll go back to doing the things that got me here. Scared that this is all a waste of time.” 

“Good,” you praised, “...but you definitely don’t know what ‘ambivalent’ means.”

≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺

“I worked it out with management, and they said everything’s okay on their end,” you said. “Shawn signed a HIPAA waiver the first day he attended Group, so he’s in the clear there. When I’m in 1-on-1 sessions, he can work on homework in the library. All we need is the go-ahead from you.” 

Faith looked through a few of her many papers. After a while, she looked up and across the table at Shawn.

“And this is what you want, Shawn?” Faith asked. “You want to live with the Reids until you turn 18?” 

Shawn looked at you, then Spencer. 

Finally, he nodded. 

“Yeah, this is what I want.” 

“Alright,” Faith smiled. “Well, Y/N, Spencer, you know the drill: now comes the paperwork.” 

“Oh, it’s my favorite part of fostering,” you remarked sarcastically. “Shawn, why don’t you go hunt down Emery and tell her the news?” 

Moments after Shawn disappeared, you all heard Emery cheer. 

“I swear, Faith, do not take this as an invitation to saddle me with more kids,” you said as you began signing papers.

“What, 25 isn’t enough?” she joked. “But seriously, this is a really great thing you guys are doing. He’s a good kid, just a little… lost. Everyone was afraid of taking him in, afraid of what it might mean for them. No one put him first. I’m glad you guys are.”

“You should see the way he is with Emery,” you said. “I mean, he’s sweet, he’s patient, he’s fun… he’s everything Emery has wanted for years.”

You heard Emery from the other room again, but it wasn’t the same sound. It was a different sound, a worse sound. A sound that, ever since she was born, curdled your blood. 

You heard her crying.

Immediately, you and Spencer were on your feet and heading towards the direction of the sound. You quickly found Emery; she was sitting on the living room floor by the fireplace, holding her head. Shawn crouched in front of her, trying to pry her hands away.

“Emmy, please don’t cry…” he said softly, holding her free hand.

“I’m okay,” she said through sniffles. It was heart-wrenching, the way she tried to power through it. She was sassy as all hell, but never much of a drama queen. When Emery cried, something was bothering her. Something hurt. 

“Hey baby,” you said as you crouched down. “Can mommy take a peek?” 

“I’m okay,” she repeated.

“I’m sure you are, but I gotta look at it.”

You gently pulled your daughter’s hand away from her face, and you immediately saw why she was crying. On the left side of her forehead was a gash, not too deep, but bad enough to the point where you could see several layers of skin were split. Not to mention that, without her hand in the way, you could see a single stream of blood making its way down her face. 

“Oh god,” Shawn whispered.

You looked over. He looked pale and absolutely shell-shocked.

“Shawn?” you asked carefully. “It’s okay. Emery’s okay. Everything’s okay.” 

Shaking his head, Shawn stood up. 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered before bolting out the front door. 

“Shawn!” you called after him, but he was already gone.

“I’ve got him,” Faith said, quickly following suit.

≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺

“Mommy, where did Shawn go?”

You applied a second butterfly strip with a sigh. 

“I don’t know, Emery,” you answered honestly. 

“Is he coming back?”

“Well, Faith and your dad are out looking for him,” you told her. “I don’t think he got very far.”

“Why did he run?”

After covering everything with a bandaid, you snapped off your gloves and ran a hand over your daughter’s hair.

“Sometimes, when people are scared, they run,” you said softly. 

“Why was he scared?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, “but running won’t fix it. Things happen, and it’s okay to be scared, but we shouldn’t run from it.”

“Why doesn’t Shawn know that?”

“He didn’t have a parent to teach him,” you settled on saying. 

Just as you were about to lift Emery off the table, you both heard the side door open. Faith entered, then Shawn, and finally, Spencer. Shawn’s shoes and pant legs were soaked with night dew. 

Faith quickly gathered her several binders and endless papers. 

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Y/N,” Faith said before showing herself out.

“Why were you scared, Shawn?” Emery asked in a small, curious voice. 

Shawn looked at you, then at the floor. 

You took Spencer’s hand and walked out of the kitchen with him. The two of you stayed by the doorway. 

“I was scared you wouldn’t like me anymore,” Shawn admitted. “I was scared your parents wouldn’t want me here anymore.” 

“It was an accident,” Emery said. “My mom and dad know you wouldn’t hurt me on purpose.” 

You gripped Spencer’s hand a little tighter. 

“Do you think I’d hurt you on purpose?”

“No.” Emery paused. “You really scared me when you ran away.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Shawn, things happen, and it’s okay to be scared, but you can’t run from it,” Emery told him. 

They stopped talking, so you spared a glance into the kitchen. 

The two were hugging. Because Emery was still sitting on the counter, she and Shawn were the same height; it made her seem much older, as if her words weren’t enough.

“People aren’t burdens, Shawn,” Emery said as she continued to hug him. “You’re not a burden.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **  
>  This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject),    
>  which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:  
>    
>  **
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Constructive criticism
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>   * Reader-reader interaction
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>  **This Author replies to comments.** _If you don't want a reply, for whatever reason, sign your comment as *whisper*._ I won't respond or interact with the comment, but I **_will read and appreciate it!_**   
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> 
> I hate to be dramatic but Shawn and Emery scenes are the only thing that makes me happy anymore.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! 
> 
> Until next time... xx


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